7 August 03
Children and Trees
On August 1 a group of us collaborated on a joint post about trees and place at the Ecotone Wiki. I was tempted, as I have often been on these joint posts, to write about childhood memories. I resisted, since I didn’t want every entry to make it seem as though the place blogging exercise was a narrative of lost childhood, yet this seems to be something that recurs quite a lot with this group.
Trees are something that children seem drawn to naturally, but there are other places too, miniature houses, secret gardens. They are all places of safety that seem to affirm the child’s individuality.
One secret place I went to often with my friend Jennifer was what we called “our little woods.” This was a stand of a few spindly locust-type trees-ten or twelve, maybe-that was bravely holding out against suburban expansion north of Madrid. We buried little treasures there, hoped to find bigger ones.
The copse was almost druidically circular which must have been a lot of its appeal. The magic of the place contained us. Even when our parents were nearby, eating picnics on ground that has been built on for over thirty years now, we had our secret connection to those trees.
Jennifer now lives in a land that is almost entirely magic-southern Sweden. The lore of trees and the creatures that live in them, and around them, and under them, make this a good place for children to discover secret places. Jennifer’s red wooden house is flanked by trees, kept at bay through lots of sweat. The geese honk in the morning and the common cranes feed in the field west of the house. Everythingapart from the spruces-seems almost diminutive, cowed by the immense forest. And magical.
Sometimes when I’m hot and dusty, coming home into the delta breeze, I remember our little woods, sparse and circular, and I think of Jennifer’s vast expanse of northern woods. Different choices have led us on different journeys, to different trees.
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In 1995 my wife and I bicycled though Sweden as part of our 6 month honeymoon across northern Europe. I remember the miles of woods and the common cranes in the roadside fields, the huge round ant nests built of pine needles, the ravens eyeing us from the tops of the trees, and the rolling mountains in the distance. The magic exuded from every bole, every cloud, every passing lake. The Scandinavians (Norway and Denmark were similar, though there is something light and cheerful about the Swedes) love their lands so much that it showed in everything they did. And my wife and I almost decided to stop and make it our home.
I think the Scandinavians have the right attitude about the world. So much could be learned from them.
We, that live in the depth of the Swedish forest can still sometimes get that magical feeling when walking through the forest. Especially in the mature areas where the trees are huge and tall and let through little light to the ground below, which is covered in moss, in every shade of green that you can imagine. And huge boulders that look like they have deliberatly been place there. In these areas you almost expect to see fairies dancing in the rays of sunshine or a troll walk by going about his daily chores.
The best thing about the land and forest in Sweden is that you dont have to own any to be able to walk there. It is there for everyone to enjoy and feel free to wander where one wishes to. To be able to pick berries and mushrooms and drink the fresh spring water that pops up here and there.
Yes, the magic is still there.